"When I saw you at General Guerrero's ball I was beset by voices from the past calling to me, persistently calling. I was introduced to you. The voices called louder. Still were they incoherent. The evening grew. I danced with you. I could not fathom the meaning of that call which sounded with increasing insistency. The days passed. I concluded that some wraith of dreams had hovered over me. At the merienda, when again introduced to you, I did not, for the moment, recognize the Señora Valentino of that military ball. You reminded me of our previous meeting, which I immediately recalled, the difference in your gown explaining my lack of recognition. As I talked with you the past spoke again to me, and in language I could not comprehend. "O, señora, need I tell you that I was that cadet-lad who for three years waved his sword in greeting to the girl at the window! I have never forgotten you." "But when the face did not again appear at the window?" "I saw the stern visage replace yours, and afterward there was a blank. I had no way to reach you." "Yes," calmly, "the incident was closed. My betrothal was arranged, and you started on your campaigns." "I had no thought punishment would come to you." "It came." "My dear lady, I would have saved you at any cost had I known. My heart bleeds that I was in any way the cause of tragedy in your life." "You are more than kind, Captain." "I wish I could give back to you those lost years." "Your wish is most generous, señor." "Before an unwilling marriage should have been forced on you I would have scaled those barbed walls to bear you away with me, after the manner of the knights of old." "But you did not know. The walls were unsealed. From the girls' dormitory I went into life--and such a life it has been! The soldier-lad's life was different." Her bosom was heaving, her breath coming in quick catches. She crumpled into a chair, and covered her face with her hands. "O, señora, señora!" moving a step nearer. A storm of sobbing was the only reply. He knelt by her side. "O, señora! My dear señora!" He put his hand on her shoulder. "Look at me, my poor, crushed señorita of the window pane." She let one hand drop to her side, the other reached to his. The velvet eyes brimming with tears looked piteously at him. "I ask--I beg of you--O, señora----" Somehow she came into his arms. "Until to-day I never knew that you were the señorita of the window." "You were the knight who went to the wars and left forlorn his lady." A fresh sob convulsed her. The compelling personality of the señora was gone. The imperious, beautiful woman was submerged in a being clinging and tender. The man made an effort to speak, but his tongue refused to obey. Finally: "Señora, I too am desolate. My sympathy for you is yet the greater because my own heart has been bereft. Señora----" A heavy foot was on the vestibule floor. Colonel Barcelo entered.